Open Your Eyes

Alyssa’s thumbs flew across the keyboard of her Blackberry as she caught up on emails. There had been a lot to do in the last few weeks as the preseason got under way and Chicago’s attention was again focused on their hockey team. With the upcoming trip to Switzerland and Finland to open the season, the young woman found herself busier than she had been even last season, when her boys were in the playoffs.

“You’re attached to that thing,” Aimee commented as she put the burger her best friend had ordered in front of her.

Alyssa shook her head. “I have to be!” she protested, placing it down on the table next to her plate. She licked her lips involuntarily as her best friend, and for now, her waitress refilled her glass of iced tea. “All the stuff I have to do before we leave for Europe…” she sighed. “I hope that’ll stop once we actually leave, though. I might be able to enjoy the trip.”

“Of course you will! You know the boys will keep everyone constantly entertained, though it might be a little less exciting with Adam stuck in Chicago with his bum knee.”

Alyssa and Aimee shared a sad look, frowning as they thought of the loud and boisterous Wisconsin native and the knee injury he had suffered in a preseason game. “I feel so bad for him, Aim. He puts on a happy face, but we both know he’s miserable not on the ice and not on the road with the guys.”

Aimee agreed before rolling her eyes as she caught one of her other tables trying to flag her down. Alyssa laughed, waving her away as she watched her best friend spread a wide and fake smile on her face. “What can I get you, sweetheart?” she heard her ask sweetly.

Shaking her head, she picked up her burger and took a huge bite just as her cell phone beeped, signaling a new text message. As if he knew he was being talked about just minutes before, Adam Burish told Alyssa he was bored. Laughing, she quickly typed a response to him. She couldn’t hold back her laughter, drawing the attention of the people around her when he sent a one word text back to her. ‘Nudes?’

“What the fuck?” Aimee laughed, coming back toward her best friend’s table. Alyssa held her hand over her mouth, showing the text to Aimee, who let out a similar, loud laugh.

“I’m calling this man,” she said, continuing to laugh as she scrolled to his name in her phonebook. She grinned when he picked up on the first ring. “Adam Mark Burish,” she scolded.

“You love me.”

“I do, but I’m not sending you nudes.”

“Fine,” he sighed, and Alyssa could tell he was rubbing his hand over his face, a habit of his she had noticed from so much time spent with him. “Come hang out with me. Sharpie wouldn’t.”

Glancing at her watch, Alyssa silently nodded her head as she put the other half of her burger and fries into the to-go box Aimee had left her. “Sure,” she smiled. “I do have to get home and pack sometime this evening though, but for the next couple of hours, I’m yours.”

Adam quickly agreed, and after she had paid her bill and slipped Aimee’s tip to her boss since the woman refused to take money from her best friend, she left the restaurant and headed toward the hockey player’s River North condo.

She could only frown when she walked into his home, his body on the couch and his knee stretched out in front of him, a thick brace keeping it straight. “Oh, Adam,” she sighed, sitting down next to him.

“I’m fine,” he told her, flashing his perfect teeth—a rarity for a fighter. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know, tough guy,” she grinned. “I just hate that you’re going to miss so much of the season.”

“Me too,” he agreed.

“So, what do you want to do?” she asked.

“Well,” Adam started. “I might’ve had ulterior motives when I asked you to come over.” Alyssa narrowed her eyes. “While I’m so thankful for your company, I was kind of hoping you’d feed me.”

Shaking her head, Alyssa pulled the to-go box from her oversized Coach bag, watching as his eyes lit up. “It’s half of what I had. If you’re still hungry after this, I can find you something more.”

“Have I told you how much I love you lately?”

“Yeah,” Alyssa laughed. “But it’s always nice to hear again,” she told him, winking.

Pulling her work blazer off, she threw it against the back of the couch as she flipped through the TV stations while Adam devoured the half of burger and fries. She yawned and then laughed at herself; it was only two thirty in the afternoon. Everyone who would be accompanying the Blackhawks on their trip to Europe had been given a half day of work that day in preparation for their departure the next day. Knowing she had a million things to do, the constant worrier pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and made the most of her afternoon with Adam.

She had ended up staying at his place for nearly three and a half hours, and when she had gotten home, Aimee was already changed out of her work uniform and in front of the TV in her sweats and some food from work in front of her. “I brought you home a chicken caesar salad,” she told Alyssa, her eyes never leaving the show she was watching. “I had a feeling you’d be regretting the burger by this time.”

Laughing because her best friend knew her far too well, Alyssa skipped into her room, changing into a pair of sweats and a tank before grabbing her salad and joining her friend on the couch. “What are we watching?”

“Ghost Hunters,” she replied, making Alyssa groan.

“You know I’m a baby when it comes to these shows! I’ll have nightmares or think I see dead people in our apartment again.” Aimee rolled her eyes and took another bite of her food as Alyssa sighed and dug into her salad. “I’ll just look at the wall, then.”

After Aimee had made Alyssa endure three episodes of the paranormal hunting show, the brunette had convinced the older girl to help her finish her last-minute packing. “I can’t believe you haven’t been ready to go for the past two weeks!”

“Shut up and pick out cute stuff.”

“You mean business sexy?”

Alyssa rolled her eyes, throwing a few pencil skirts into her suitcase. “I wish you could come with me,” she frowned. “I’d have more fun.”

“I’m just a waitress, remember?”

“Aimee!” Alyssa laughed. “Stop with that. You haven’t seen Tomas in weeks. You know,” she paused. “Since you threw water on him, ruining the nice lunch we were having.”

“And yet, the thought of him still makes me want to punch a wall.”

Shaking her head, Alyssa turned back to her closet, grabbing a few blouses. When she turned back around, Aimee stood at her dresser, having thrown almost all of the underwear her friend owned onto the bed. “I think you should bring this, too,” Aimee said, her eyes wide in amusement as she held up a silk and lace see-through negligee.

“Oh god, I don’t know why I still have that. I bought that for Trevor, before you know,” she finished sadly, making Aimee wince as her best friend talked about her ex.

“You never got to wear it?” Alyssa shook her head. “I bet you one hundred dollars that if you showed up to Ben Eager’s hotel room wearing it, he’d finally make a move.”

“And what exactly would Dave Bolland do when I showed up at his hotel room wearing that.”

“Ah, shit,” Aimee cursed. “I always forget these guys room up.” Alyssa laughed, grabbing the risqué garment of barely-clothing and threw it back into her drawer.

---

Aimee pulled into the parking lot of the United Center, coming to a stop just outside the door of the chartered bus the Blackhawks would be taking to the airport. All the men wore smiles of excitement as they thought about the trip ahead. Ten days in Europe to start the season didn’t sound like a bad idea to anyone. Alyssa smiled and thanked her best friend for the ride before leaning over the driver’s side door to hug her tight.

“I’ll call you later,” she said, watching as Ben Eager stepped toward her and grabbed her luggage without a word, loading it into the undercarriage of the bus. “What a sexy mother—” she started to say before John McDonough walked up to her with a clipboard. “Hi, sir,” she smiled, mentally slapping herself as Aimee giggled from her seat before yelling ‘have fun!’ at everyone and swinging out of the parking lot.

“Miss Black, can you please make sure we’re all accounted for,” he instructed her, handing her the clipboard.

“Of course, sir,” she responded quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when he walked away and climbed onto the management and staff bus.

“Smooth,” she heard from behind her, making her snap her head to see Dave Bolland smirking at her.

“Shut it, Bolly,” she warned.

“Your secret is safe with me, ‘Lyss,” he laughed, bumping her shoulder with his before he climbed onto the players’ bus. Sighing, Alyssa followed after him, shaking her head as she heard cheers and catcalls.

“Thanks boys,” she laughed, starting to check off the names of players she passed by. When she had all of the players and coaches accounted for, she climbed onto the other bus to give John his clipboard.

“Great,” he grinned. “You can give the bus driver of the first bus the green light, and Alyssa, instead of making another trip back here, why don’t you just sit with the boys for the ride?”

“Yes, sir,” she said calmly before ducking out of their bus and practically running back to other bus in her high heels and taking the seat next to Ben he’d saved for her just in case she had been allowed to ride with them.

“Hey,” she laughed, bouncing onto the seat next to him, as she put her oversized purse—doubling as a carryon bag for the flight—on the floor.

“Hi,” he grinned, pulling his headphones out of his ears. “I was sure they were going to keep you on the management bus.”

“Me too, but John wanted me to give this driver the all clear to go, and I think he felt bad for me having to go up and back.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Ben told her, winking one of those crystal blue eyes at her.

He has really got to stop doing that, she told herself silently as the bus pulled onto the expressway, heading out of Chicago and toward O’Hare airport. Brent Seabrook and Jonathan Toews sat in front of them, Patrick Kane and Kris Versteeg behind them, and newbies, John Madden and Tomas Kopecky to their right.

Smiling politely at Tomas, who sat just inches from her across the aisle, she had the sudden urge to text Aimee. She wrote, “I know I’m not even out of the city yet, but I wanted you to know that Tomas Kopecky is six inches from me.”

When she got a reply that said, ‘Punch him in his bug-like face for me, yeah?’ she burst out laughing. Tomas turned back to Alyssa, his eyes narrowed as she tried to cover her mouth and muffle her giggles, to no avail.

“Something funny?” he asked.

“Why else would I be laughing?” she asked, channeling Aimee’s sometimes snotty attitude and making Ben snort to her left.

“Care to share?”

“Not really.”

After hitting a bit of traffic on the expressway and going through minimal (but still enough to be a pain in the ass) security, the team was ready to board their chartered plane. After completing the task of counting heads—as if the boys would be lost somewhere in the airport—Alyssa again took the seat Ben had saved for her.

With a little time before take-off, most of the guys were standing up and talking with each other. “Alyssa,” Coach Q said, catching her attention. “You’re not really going to spend a sixteen hour flight in a business suit and heels are you?”

She frowned, shrugging her shoulders. “I have sweats in my bag.”

“Go change, honey,” Coach laughed, grabbing her carryon from the overhead compartment.

“Yes, dad,” she joked, grabbing the pants and tee shirt before ducking into the airplane bathroom. Pulling on the black sweatpants, the Blackhawks logo on her hip and her Adam Burish tee shirt he insisted she rock any chance she got, she looked over her appearance in the small mirror. Giving herself a light smile as she folded her skirt, blouse, and blazer, she put her heels on top of them as she slipped into gym shoes.

“Much better,” Ben smiled as he stood talking to Patrick Sharp when she came from the restroom.

“Wait,” Sharpie said, grabbing her shoulders and turning her around. “Fuck that!” he exclaimed when he saw the name on her back. “Burish, Alyssa?”

“He said he wanted to be here in spirit,” she said. Shoving his shoulder, she tucked her work clothes into her bag, trying to keep them nice knowing she’d have to put them on before they landed. That was when she saw the smaller black bag inside of her own, making her mentally slap herself.

“Sharpie!” she laughed. “I almost forgot something!” By then she had everyone’s attention as she pulled the bag out and placed it in the winger’s hands.

He stared at it in confusion before opening it and grinning. “Oh, yes,” he laughed, pulling the camera out and immediately turning it on, pointing it at Jonathan Toews.

“I hate you, Alyssa,” the captain groaned, the bright camera light pointing in his face.

“Sorry, Jonny, but I was given specific instructions to give this to Sharpie. The fans want more shenanigans. Go crazy, Sharp Shooter.”

“Awesome,” he laughed, handing the camera back to Alyssa. “Film me, film me,” he urged, standing in the airplane isle. Alyssa agreed, pressing the record button as Sharpie adjusted his NHL Premiere knit hat.

This is Patrick Sharp for Blackhawks TV, getting ready to leave for Switzerland.